


Spectre

by galpalaven



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Colonist (Mass Effect), Shakarian if you squint, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), me getting emotional over the cheat spectre armor you can get with console commands in me1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galpalaven/pseuds/galpalaven
Summary: Commander Shepard struggles with her new title, and the armor that comes with it, as she puts away N7 for Spectre.





	Spectre

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a weenie and got emotional thinking about how Shepard must have felt putting on the new (only available through console commands) armor instead of her N7 armor. Then I got emotional because she didn't really have any friends yet. And yeah

The requisitions officer had been quite persistent about the armor, when she followed the Council’s instructions and stopped by C-Sec. The weapons he didn’t care so much about, but every Spectre has their own set of armor—a uniform, just like every other type of law enforcement. Just like C-Sec, just like the Alliance, just like the N7 program. 

It felt wrong in her hands, when she went to try it on in the captain’s cabin—er, _her_ quarters, back on the Normandy. She’d given her speech, made her rounds for the night, and was ready to settle in while Joker flew them to the Artemis Tau Cluster, knowing she would have a few hours to herself to try and unwind.

Or she was ready to try, she thought, looking around at the big empty room and the big empty bed, only not so empty with pieces of her armor lying on it. Her N7 armor lay on one side—battle worn and in need of a paint job, but still good. _Her_ armor, her rank, her accomplishment. The new Spectre armor lay next to it, shiny, unworn, and obviously much stronger. She liked the little pink lights, at least, she thought as she ran her fingers delicately across the chest plate—they gave it character, aside from the Council insignia, both on the chest plate and the one giant shoulder piece.

She’d seen other Spectres wearing this armor before, she realized—not the turians, but she saw an asari once wearing this style. She must have been a Spectre. It seemed you were allowed to customize colors, as hers had been blue and white, and this one must just be the standard color. Grey camo wasn’t really something she ever thought she’d want to wear, but…well, at least it still had N7 red on it. Maybe if she got through this mission, if she stopped Saren, she could get a new paint job for hers, too.

She wasn’t sure why her stomach was in knots—it wasn’t like she’d been demoted or fired from the Alliance. In fact, this was a _promotion_. She had her own ship now—the _best_ ship in the entire Alliance _fleet_ , at that. This was a _privilege_. This was _historic_.

So why did she feel so _bad_?

Sun was distracted by a knocking at her door, and before she could properly brace herself, it slid open behind her, just as she whirled to face it. 

Dr. Chakwas smiled sympathetically at her, waving a bottle of brandy at her where she stood in the doorway. “Hello, Commander. I found this in my stores, and thought you might need a drink, after everything that’s happened.”

Shepard wanted to cry, but forced herself to laugh instead. “That’s an understatement. Come on in.”

Chakwas smiled, pressing the button to close the door behind her as she moved to sit on the closest chair to the bed. Sun fidgeted for a moment, unsure of what to do, before settling on sitting at the foot of the bed, carefully rearranging her armor to give herself room. The doctor handed her a glass and settled into the seat with her own with a deep, tired sigh. Shepard couldn’t really focus, eyes on the glass in her hand, watching the brandy swirl.

“So,” Chakwas began after a moment, “ _Spectre_.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was a bit hoarse. “Spectre.”

“…If I might, Commander, you don’t really seem as thrilled as I’d have expected.”

Sun frowned at her drink. “I know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be— _over the moon_. The Spectres are a _huge_ deal and this is a _huge_ step for humanity, but I just…it doesn’t feel… _I don’t_ feel…”

Shepard trailed off in frustration, huffing and shaking her head. Heavy silence settled over the room for a moment, before Chakwas leaned forward and murmured, “You don’t feel like you’ve earned it.”

_That_ finally made Shepard look up, to meet the doctor’s kind gaze and her understanding smile, and she realized that, _yes_ , that was _exactly_ what she was feeling. “No,” Shepard replied softly. “No, I don’t.”

Chakwas nodded thoughtfully, leaning back again. “And why do you think that is, Commander? What do you think makes you unworthy?”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t really—I haven’t done anything _that_ impressive. When I got through the N7 program, I’d proved myself. I’d made it through the entire program, top of my class. I deserved that. _This_? I mean, my most recent accomplishment is not getting eaten by thresher maws, Doc. Not exactly a big deal, really. Krogan manage that probably daily and you don’t see them getting promoted to Spectre.” She paused to scratch at her head. “I couldn’t even save my squad.”

Chakwas hummed, tossing back her brandy and sighing. “I don’t think it’s really about that. It’s about the fact that you _survived_. You used your resources and you made it back. The Spectres are an elite group with incredible skills—skills like yours.”

“I’m _not_ —,” Sun started to argue, but the doctor cut her off.

“Didn’t I read somewhere that you singlehandedly bested an entire unit of turians when you were 18 and fresh out of boot camp?”

Shepard flushed, startled a little that someone on board knew about that. “I—I mean…”

“And you did survive that slave raid on Mindoir. That’s no small accomplishment, especially judging by how utterly classified those files are.” Shepard flinched, and Chakwas shook her head before Sun could start to fret. “Commander, I’m not here to pry. I’m here because—well, because you looked a little off, and as attending physician, it’s my job to make sure you’re alright.”

The corner of Sun’s mouth twitched. “By getting me tipsy?”

“Hmm. By helping you relax. If nothing else, a nightcap should help, even if I haven’t.” She tossed back the rest of her brandy and moved to rise from her seat. “I’ll leave you be, now, Commander. I—“

“Do you really think I deserve it?” Sun heard herself ask. Looking up at the older woman, she fiddled with the glass in her hands as she continued, “Do you really think I’ll make a good Spectre?”

Dr. Chakwas smiled warmly. “Commander, I think the Council couldn’t have chosen a better human candidate if they’d trained one themselves. You’ll be the best Spectre they’ve ever had.”

 

* * *

  

They reached Artemis Tau about six hours later, and Therum after another hour still—long enough to get in some decent sleep, at the very least. Still, Shepard was tired as she tried to figure out what bits of her armor went where, frowning where it was too tight in some places, and too big in others (did her hips _always_ look like that?). She’d need to get it fitted, next time they were on the Citadel. As it were, though, she didn’t think it would hinder her movement or trip her up, so she let it be. They were here to pick up Matriarch Benezia’s daughter before Saren could kidnap her, after all, and now was as good a time as any to try out her new armor—or so she thought, right up until the moment she met her field crew in the cargo bay.

“Whoa,” came Ashley’s voice from over by the lockers, impressed by the sound of it. “Nice new duds, Skipper. You get that from the Spectre office?”

Sun fidgeted with one of the many straps, ears suspiciously hot, nodding with a sigh. “Yep. See the insignia?”

“Makes it a little more real, doesn’t it?” rumbled Wrex, bumping her shoulder gently. 

_Gently_ , for a krogan, was still rough enough to make her wince, and she rolled her shoulders to ease the ache as she nodded wordlessly. Wrex climbed into the Mako, squishing into the back seat as Sun hovered just outside the door, wondering if she’d forgotten anything and feeling distinctly small in her new, heavier armor with it’s strange, new marks. She felt every bit like a child in a costume, if anything—at least her N7 armor had felt like _armor_.

“Looks good on you,” came a doubled voice behind her, and when she turned, she found Garrus nodding appreciatively, blue eyes somewhere on her hips. 

She smiled a little, cheeks feeling a little warmer as she turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

Something dropped in his eyes as they darted back to hers. “Yeah, you know. For a human.”

She snorted, giggling as he brushed past her to climb into the tank. “ _For a human_? Is _that_ how it’s gonna be, Vakarian?”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, Commander.”

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on tumblr [ here](http://vakarian-shepard.tumblr.com) or [ here ](http://galpalaven.tumblr.com)


End file.
